


Honey Whiskey

by Pink_Painted_Flowers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Marijuana, Music, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Partying, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Some Swearing, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Underage Drinking, emotional breakdowns, kinda slow burn?, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Painted_Flowers/pseuds/Pink_Painted_Flowers
Summary: “Keith,” Lance shouted over the noise. “Keith look up. Look up at the stars.” Keith didn’t say anything.“Look at the stars, Keith.” The words didn’t come out the way he’d intended. They were almost whispered into the surrounding darkness.“I am,” Keith whispered. “I am looking at the stars.” Lance grinned, and turned his head to look at Keith, who was in fact not looking at the stars. He was looking at Lance.





	1. Level One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay SO! Wow look I actually updated it, and do plan to continue *jazz hands* anyway.  
> IMPORTANT: Hi if you're a wonderful person who read chapter one the first time I posted it, I made some edits. Mostly small things, but if nothing else, read the first two sentences. Those are game changers.
> 
> For all ya'll new readers: Welcome to another Soulmate AU no one asked for, but I made anyway!-  
> So in this au there's a thing commonly known as "Skinship Markings" which appear as colors on your skin in the shape of someone's hand or whatever art of their body touches you, and there's a few "levels" to them, starting at level one which is very basic colors coming from everyday touches between friends and common romantic relationships. Then level two is a permanent mark you receive when your soulmate touches you for the first time, and the color is unique to each pair.
> 
> Those are the two good ones.  
> The not so good ones are levels zero and three. Zero indicates a particularly harmful and maliciously intended touch which left some kind of psychological scar on you. These will always be black. Level 3 is a gray mark which takes the place of a soulmate mark if one of them dies.  
> Sorry that was long I'll let you read now!!

Level One:

This is the most basic level of Skinship Markings. These marks

show kind touches through basic interaction. Blue marks show a brush

between friends, pink marks come from love (darker pinks being that

of lust as well), yellow indicate touches linked to pure joy.

These marks last only for two hours.

 

 

 

 

If you were to ask anyone else, then they would tell you that it had to have begun the night after the fire. The pictures that shouldn’t have existed, the desperation that hung around every single one of them for months.

If you were to ask Lance, it had begun at the party at his parent’s beach house. It was the first weekend of the summer, and they were celebrating having just barely survived their freshman year of college. As much as Keith had protested, Lance hadn’t kept the party small. The first to know about it were of course, Hunk, Keith, and Pidge since they were his closest friends, and must have VIP guests as far as Lance was concerned. The next to know was Pidge’s brother Matt, as the only one over twenty-one willing to buy them alcohol. then he told Adam and Shiro. A power couple that almost anyone would follow, not that they were great about getting out to actually spread the word, with how much time they spent “studying” together. Which was why, as horrible of an idea he knew it was, he called his ex-girlfriend Nyma next.

Nyma might have pretended to hate hearing from him again, but Lance knew that a chance to show off how much better her life had become in the past three months was too good an offer to pass up. Any of her social activities went public within seconds of any planning. Which meant that by ten thirty that Friday night, the beach house was full of blasting music with lights flashing in time to the beat- curtesy of their tech guru Pidge- and people packed into every inch of available space- curtesy of Nyma, who was already on her way to a drunk mess, hanging off of her junior date.

People had moved out onto the decks, and space beneath the house when it got too crowded inside. There was a couple in the hammock that no one had seen unhooked for hours, a group of frat boys daring each other to jump into the still river backing the row of houses down the block. People loitered along the stairs outside to cool off, and a group had just broken off to go explore the beach not even a half mile away.

And everyone was covered in various colors and sizes of Skinship markings from the lack of personal space in the house. The colors all seemed to glow a little underneath the lights.

There was not a single spare inch of personal space on the main floor. It was taken up by too many moving bodies to count. Everyone was on each other, half of them covered in spilled alcohol, but never making a move to get clean. Not one for dancing, or interacting too much with people, Pidge was up by the TV, acting as the DJ. Every once in a while she would turn the music down a few notches to scream something unintelligible at the crowd just to see their drunken response. Despite rejecting the idea of any alcohol, Lance was pretty sure her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. She seemed at least a little buzzed. Good for her to have a little fun for the first time all year. Better she does it at Lance’s house when she was spending the night, then at some god awful frat party back on campus.

It was getting close to midnight, and Lance was detangling himself from the middle of the dance floor, trying to shove someone’s hands off of him. He couldn’t quite tell if it was the girl who’d been trying to make out with him a few minutes ago, or the guy he’d left her to go dance with. They ended up lost to the buzzing in his head, and the rapidly changing lights.

He laughed and almost fell on his ass in the kitchen when he finally broke free. Almost every inch of his exposed skin was covered in pink and blue and green marks as he stumbled a few steps before grabbing the counter. He wasn’t drunk exactly, but the rush of the night was getting to him. Lance looked up, then threw his hands at the ceiling, grinning.

“Hunk! Keith! My boys, yes!”  Keith rolled his eyes.

“Lance. Buddy. How drunk are you?” Hunk asked, looking almost disappointed, as if he hadn’t seen far worse in the past year sharing a dorm. Not to mention the four years of high school before that.

Lance lowered himself onto the floor where Hunk and Keith were sitting a good foot apart. Even with the distance, Keith still looked like he was trying to vanish through the cabinets he was pressed against. Hunk had dressed up a little for the party, and a sparse few markings covered his arms, though they were all fading.

Keith on the other hand hadn’t even tried to stray from his usual dark on dark on dark ensemble. Right down to the black leather gloves meant for riding his motorcycle. His skin was remarkably clear of any markings, but that wasn’t unusual for him.

“Oh not very, calm down,” he waved his hand in Hunk’s direction. The music was muffled a little in the kitchen, but Lance still had to raise his voice to speak. “I’m just having a good time. Unlike you losers trapped in here.” He jabbed his finger into Hunk’s arm to emphasize his point. “Come on, man. I made absolutely sure that Shay showed up tonight just for you. This is your chance!” Hunk glared at him.

“Right, yeah. But you see that doesn’t really help me when I go and spill a drink all over her before I’ve even said hi. Not that I don’t appreciate you bringing her here, because I do,” he added as reassurance. “But really. This just isn’t going to end well. I don’t know what to do, and now I’ve just made it worse.” Hunk crossed his arms, and pouted down at the tiled floor.

“Hunk, buddy, this is ridiculous.” Lance’s voice was firm, unyielding on the topic, but in no way ungentle. He pointed at the sleeve of Hunk’s t-shirt. “If you look right under there you’ll find complete proof that you’re being a dumbass. That’s some real level two shit right there.” Hunk glared at him, and cupped his hand over his shoulder where all three of them knew full well was a soft yellow mark in the shape of Shay’s short fingers from where she had touched him a few weeks ago when they almost knocked each other over in the hallway. He hadn’t been able to stop touching it for days, unsure if it was even real. Hunk had been distantly crushing on the girl from his geology lab since the semester started, but had never dreamed she would be this important. The problem was though he had been steering clear of Shay ever since, afraid of the rejection he might face.

“What if she’s it for me, but not the other way around? What if she’s one of those people that just totally rejects the all this soulmate mark stuff? What if-“

“Yeah? And what if she’s ready to fall into your arms right now? You’re not going to know until you go out there and talk to her.” Hunk still frowned at him, and ran a hand over his arm. Lance hummed, and stood up, an idea forming.

He grabbed a red solo cup from the stack on the counter, and filled it with coke and a small splash of rum.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he started when he turned back to Hunk. “You’re gonna go find her out there, tell her you just fell for her a little too hard the first time, then ask if you can start over. Then when she says yes you go-“ Lance lowered his voice, and wrapped one arm around his waist in his best Hunk impression. “’The name’s Hunk, gorgeous.’” Lance then flips to the other side of the room, and leans into one hip while fanning himself, and going falsetto. “’Oh, Hunk. Of course we can start again. You gorgeous beefcake!’”

Keith, who hadn’t said a word since Lance stumbled in, snorted then hid his face behind his hand to mute his laughter. Hunk flung his head back though, laughing hard, shoulders shaking. Lance grinned at his friend loosening up.

“Lance. That was awful. Absolutely awful,” Keith laughed. Lance glared at him.

“Aw, shut it, Keith. It would totally work. This is the seduction plan to end all other seduction plans. How dare you doubt me?” Hunk shook his head, and breathed through his laughter as he stood up.

“Alright Lance. You’ve convinced me.” Lance grinned as Hunk took the drink from his hand. “You’ve convinced me that I can’t do any worse than that line so there’s no harm in trying.”

“Hey!”

Hunk pulled him into a tight, one armed hug.

“Thank you. Really.” He muttered next to Lance’s ear. He softened, and wrapped his arms around Hunk’s back. Hunk was really just a softie looking for validation, but he didn’t always like letting everyone else in on it, more often just letting people write him off as the anxious kid near the back. Lance was one of the very few people that knew this about him.

“Anytime, big guy.”

Hunk took a deep breath, and Lance shoved his shoulder to help get him out of the door. With Hunk taken care of, Lance turned to the dark shadow of Keith still on the floor. Lance sank back down to the floor to take the space Hunk had given up, careful to keep a comfortable distance between them.

Keith hated being touched. He had never explained why, just mumbled something about a sensitivity disorder every time Lance had ever asked. Keith had mastered the art of avoiding any and all physical contact. It was impressive in a way, that he could even come to a party like this, where there was no telling when someone was about to ram themselves into you, or drag you into a dance, that what little skin Keith was showing still remained unmarked.

“Alright, man,” he started. “What’s up? You look super disinterested. And that’s impressive for you, because you’re always disinterested.”

Keith gave him a dirty look which settled into a mildly annoyed grimace in a matter of seconds. He shrugged.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Okay yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that.” Keith still refused to say anything, refused to look at him. It wasn’t unlike Keith to be moody and silent, it was actually a running joke between Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. The melodramatic, edgy studio art major, but this was different. Keith was in one of his moods, and had isolated himself from everyone else when Lance had lost track of him hours ago. He was grateful to Hunk for sitting with him, but he wanted Keith to be enjoying himself for once.

As much as he played it off, Keith cared about his work, and had become damn near obsessed in the past year. Spent every free second he had outside with his camera, slept the least out of their friends (which was one hell of a feat considering he competed for the title with Pidge) because he poured over every detail of his projects all night long, nose almost glued to his computer screen. Tonight was about relaxing, letting go, and whatever that might mean for Keith, Lance was hell bent on pulling it out of him.

“Come, on,” he whined. He tilted his body toward Keith. He pulled his knees into his chest, ignoring Lance.

Lance huffed. “Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Keith looked over at him, almost disgusted.

“Are you five?”

“Sure am! Now talk to me.” Keith blew out a long breath.

 “It’s just not-“ There was a hard thud against the kitchen door that cut him off. Keith flinched, his hands coming up to his head on instinct, and it clicked. Lance moved himself to form a wall between Keith and the rest of the party. Keith glared at the floor and folded his arms back over his knees.

To say Keith didn’t do well with sudden, loud noises would have been an understatement. There were a handful of times that Lance had seen him go into a panic attack over the shouting in the dorm next to his. He hated talking about it, and they had all been retrained not to address it unless it was a life or death situation. But they had all pieced enough together from off handed comments, and slipped bits of information from Shiro to know it came from a less than happy childhood. Lance periodically brought up a few easy options to help him work through it, but Keith shut down every time he brought them up. 

The music reverberating through the house had to have been enough to put Keith on edge, but the random shouts, and bangs of the other hundred people there were not doing him any favors. Lance hated that he hadn’t thought about that. That he hadn’t kept a closer eye on Keith to make sure he was doing okay. He would have offered to get him out of here, leave Shiro in charge until morning, if he hadn’t sent Matt out with his car for a quick supply run. For now, he would just have to do his best.

“Keith. I’m so sorry. I should have thought about-“ Keith held up his hand to stop him.

“No. It’s fine. Really.”

“But it’s  _not_.”

“Hey,” Keith tried to laugh, his mouth pulling into a tight smile. “I’m the idiot who still thought it was a good idea to show up tonight. Seriously. It’s not your fault.” Lance slumped. He racked his brain, trying to think of how he could help Keith. He was a little apprehensive about taking him down to the beach this late at night. It would be somewhat quieter outside, but who knew what the frat boys on the river would try and pull at any minute.

The crowd outside screamed in unison at something happening on the dance floor. Keith flinched again, and the way he gripped onto his arm didn’t go unnoticed.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice shaking. Lance stood up, not wanting Keith sitting in the kitchen on the verge of panicking for another minute.

“Come on,” he directed Keith as gently as he could over the music. “Let’s go upstairs.” Lance peeked out the kitchen door when Keith started pulling himself off the ground. There was almost a clear path for them. Lance walked out first, shoving a few people out of the way, all of them too drunk to register what was going on. He made a path for Keith, and kept looking back to make sure he didn’t lose him. They had to hop over people sitting on the stairs, and Lance knew he was being borderline obnoxious about getting through, half singing at everyone to ‘move it,’ but now wasn’t the time to care about being too polite.

Lance had locked all the doors upstairs, except for the bathroom, so he wouldn’t walk in on a couple draped over each other in the morning, or find a puddle of puke on his bed. This meant that the hallway upstairs was near empty with the lack of access. He pulled a key out of his jeans to unlock the door to his room, and let Keith wander in first.

The only light in the room came from the faint moon glow through the window, but Lance left the lights off as he walked over to his desk. Keith sank down against the wall, next to the pile of bags with his, Hunk, and Pidge’s clothes for the weekend.

“Any better up here?” Lance asked over his shoulder as he searched for something on his desk. The noise from the party was muffled, though they could still feel the pulse of the music in the wood of the house. At least they knew no one else would bother them up here.

“I think so,” Keith said. He sighed, and tilted his head back against the wall. Lance found the earbuds he’d been searching for, and brought them over to Keith when he sat next to him on the wall. He plugged them into his phone then offered one ear bud to Keith. Lance thumbed through his music, finding something that would distract the boy next to him,

“I swear to god; I’ll go jump in the ocean if you play Gasolina.” Lance actually hadn’t even thought of that, but it was a good idea. One he might save for later.

“Nah, I think you can relate to this one a little better.” The first few drum beats kicked in, and Lance turned up the volume so they could hear it over the party.

_‘This party’s pretty boring. I don’t think it’s for me.'_

Keith let out a low deep breath. Nothing But Thieves may not have been his personal favorite, but the steadier rhythm would hopefully work as a distraction.   

 _'Lucy’s already crashed out. She’s on the spare settee. This air is getting so thin, go down, go down, go down. The honey whiskey’s kickin’, go down, go down, go down._ ’

Lance just sat against the wall watching Keith. Watching him breathe, eyes following the bridge of his nose. There was a strand of hair in his eyes, and Lance felt the urge to brush it away. To press the back of his hand against Keith’s neck, just to feel his pulse. Sometimes Lance thought about this, about how he had no idea what Keith’s skin felt like under his hands. If his mess of dark hair was soft, if his skin was hot to the touch. It was so strange to be so close to Keith but not know these few key things about him. Lance was very hands on with everything, had to experience it for himself to understand it, so he knew these things about his other friends. Knew that Pidge’s hair was frizzy, and a little rough, knew where Hunk’s hands were calloused, knew that Shiro’s scars were smoother than he would have thought. But with Keith, he could only guess.

Neither of them said a word for a long time. Both just listening as the music shuffled through. Keith didn’t make any comments on what came on, so Lance took it as free reign to skip through handfuls of songs at a time until he found one he liked, or replay others until he was satisfied.  He glanced over at Keith from time to time to make sure he was doing okay. He seemed better, more relaxed, but his hands still pulled at the seam of his jeans, and he was still carefully controlling his breath.

Lance was coming down from the adrenaline of the party, the marks on his skin beginning to fade. The late hour was hitting him hard. He sank a little more against the wall, almost falling asleep, not realizing how close he was to Keith.

Keith jerked himself away when Lance suddenly almost crashed onto his shoulder, and he realized his mistake. Lance moved himself back, giving Keith as much space as he could.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t. . .” Keith ran his hands over his hair, and shook his head.

“It’s okay. I just. . . It’s okay.” Lance nodded, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was doing a crappy job of making Keith feel better.

There was a soft thud against the floor. Keith’s fist lay curled against the floor.

“I hate when I’m like this, you know. I hate being. . . scared all the time. Hate getting freaked out about the smallest things.” Every muscle in Keith’s body was clenched tight, shoulders hunched over, breathing tight, and head bowed. Lance couldn’t see his eyes anymore.

“You’re scared?” Lance whispered. Keith looked up, not expecting the question. His mouth fell open, but no words came out. He pulled his hands into his lap, and looked away from him, trying to look as interested as possible in the wall next to him. Lance let him be. He didn’t want to push Keith into talking about this if he wasn’t ready.

“Yeah,” he whispered after a few moments of silence. “Yeah, I am. Of a lot of things. And I. . . I hate it. But it just. . .” Keith’s breath stuttered on the next inhale. He hissed the air out through his teeth, trying to keep in control of himself.

Lance moved himself across the floor, getting just a little bit closer to Keith, needing to do something to pull him out of this. Lance didn’t know what he was going to say, until it came out of his mouth. He started rambling about nothing. Funny stories he had forgotten to tell Keith, dumb things he was pissed off about recently, the ridiculous look Nyma had given him when she walked in. Anything he could think of. Keith relaxed little by little, though the little smiles he flashed were forced.

He was talking about the near disaster that had been making brownies with Hunk earlier, when Keith finally joined the conversation.

“You made brownies?” He sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“What? Yeah, of course I did! I’m amazing in the kitchen.” Keith let out a breath that might have been meant to be a laugh.

“Right. So you were just telling me. And almost setting the dorms on fire last semester are proof of that. Hunk let you go near brownie batter again?” He cocked at eyebrow at Lance.

“Um, yeah. What are you. . .oh.” Lance started laughing. “Oh my god, you think I laced the brownies downstairs?” Keith’s shrug was stiff.

“You’ve been known to do it before.”

“One time! That was one time!” Lance stood up, and went to grab his bag from the pile in the corner. “I wouldn’t put out a random plate of edibles, give me some credit.” Lance pulled a plastic bag out of the side pocket, and turned around, grinning at Keith.

“Nah. I saved that shit for myself.”

**********

Lance had become entranced with the colors that pooled under the crack of the door, flashing blue, then purple, then green, then blue, then purple. They were brighter, and more stunning, and each one seemed to thrum in his chest with a new beat. What he was basing any of these observations on, he could not have pinned down.

He lolled his head over to the side to tell Keith about the lights, but he got distracted by the array of plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck haphazardly to the ceiling.  Some were tiny, and distant, some were reaching off of the ceiling toward him, and others slowly shifted from side to side. He let out a low astonished breath. The stars. He was seeing the stars for what felt like the first time. Downstairs someone shrieked with joy, as the rhythm in the house shifted.

“Keith,” he shouted over the noise. “Keith look up. Look up at the stars.” Keith didn’t say anything. Lance sank lower against the wall he was sitting against.

“Look at the stars, Keith.” The words didn’t come out the way he’d intended. They were almost whispered into the surrounding darkness.

“I am,” Keith whispered. “I am looking at the stars.” Lance grinned, and turned his head to look at Keith on the corner of his bed, who was in fact not looking at the stars. He was looking at Lance.

“No,” he whined. “Keith I said look  _up._  Look at  _the_   _stars_.”  Keith slipped off the bed, and sat on his knees on the floor.

“I am, I am, I am.” His voice was slow and barely more than a breath.

“No. . . no, no, no,” Lance muttered. The floor came up to slam into his face. “What the fuck?”

Keith’s expression lowered into a deep scowl, and Lance groaned. He didn’t like that look on Keith. It seemed painful.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered.

Keith ignored him. He crawled over toward the door, and for a moment Lance was worried he was going to leave. Instead he reached into the shadowed corner, and dragged his backpack out. He fumbled to unzip the front pocket before shoving his hands inside.

“Can’t see.”

“Turn on the lights,” Lance sang as he rolled over onto his back in the middle of the floor. The room went quiet, and Lance hummed to himself, trying to keep in time with the music still thrumming under the floorboards. His eyes rolled over the ceiling, the stars. There was a click, and then a faint glow from Lance’s left. He looked over, to find a hundred more blue stars had joined them in the darkness.

“Hello,” Lance whispered. Lance folded over to see Keith in the corner. “Keith look there’s m-“ he cut himself off after bursting into laughter when he saw what Keith pulled out of the backpack. Both of his hands were clutching several crinkled tubes of paints, and a single brush.

“Do you carry that everywhere?” Keith’s head lolled to the side in what might have been an attempt at denial. Other than that, he ignored Lance’s hysterics. He uncapped a few tubes of paint, then looked around on the ground for something, unsure of what to do. In the end, he squeezed out a few drops of each of the colors onto his palm. After setting down the last tube, he pressed his palms together to smear the paint.

Lance was still giggling, though he forgot what about, when Keith shuffled over to him on his knees.

“Sit up,” Keith said. He sounded distant, as if he was inside his own head. Lance worked to smother the giggles, as he pushed himself back up to sitting.

“What do you want, Keef?” Keith didn’t answer, just stared down at his hands for a minute, then up at Lance, who stilled, focusing on Keith’s eyes. They seemed to be going in and out, the depths growing and shrinking in the darkness as he looked between each of them. It was fascinating.

Kith lifted his paint caked fingers to face Lance, and a warning went off in Lance’s head, but he couldn’t figure out why. All he could register were Keith’s hands coming closer and closer to his cheeks.

A cold spread across the bridge of his nose, underneath his eyes, and down to his jaw. Keith pressed his hands more firmly to Lance’s face, cupping his cheeks, fingers reaching toward his hair, thumbs rubbing a little at his nose.

Lance felt his heart beat painfully against his chest. This was. . . off somehow. His brain was slow to figure out why. Keith tilted his head as he pulled his hands away. Lance felt his skin warming under the paint. The cold feeling came back across his forehead as Keith pressed three fingers just below his hairline, and Lance put together what was so wrong. Keith had never touched him before. Lance grabbed Keith’s wrist as he pulled it away.

“Keith,” he breathed, but he didn’t seem to register it.

“I am looking at the stars.” Lance felt all of the air leave his chest. He let go of Keith’s wrist.

Keith smeared the leftover paint onto Lance’s neck, and collarbone, apologizing when he got it on his shirt too. Keith went back to his bag, and grabbed the paint brush and another tube of paint. He used the back of his hand this time, and squeezed out a small drop of white. He was hyper focused when he came back to Lance, eyes scanning over his face.

“What are you doing?” Keith pressed the brush into the paint, and went to work doting Lance’s face.

“I’m making you a galaxy,” he mumbled. Lance went quiet as Keith painted his cheeks, his forehead, muttering something he couldn’t quite catch every once in a while.  Keith pulled back to look at him, to observe his work. Lance felt a little dizzy.

Keith wiped the rest of the paint off on his jeans without looking away from Lance. He tilted his head to see every angle. His eyes narrowed the way they did when he was working on something that Lance couldn’t recall at the moment. When he seemed satisfied, he dropped the paint brush, and went back for his bag again. This time, he pulled out his camera.

“Sit under the lights.” He pointed at the blue stars on the wall without looking up. Lance obliged, feeling as if he were in a dream. His skin felt hot, and the paint was pulling at his cheeks where it started to dry. Keith looked up just as he felt himself relax into the wall. He did nothing but stare at him for a long time. It was impossible to read the look in his eyes in the darkness, and Lance almost missed the way the corner or his mouth quirked up for just a moment.

Keith moved himself in front of Lance, and started taking pictures. Lance wasn’t sure what to do exactly. He was still reeling, his mind still hazy from the brownies. The party went on below them, the music vibrating, and disrupting the quiet between them. He wanted to tell them to stop. Keith glanced up at the stars on the ceiling. Lance looked up at them too.

“The boy of stars,” Keith whispered. Lance let himself smile.

He heard another click of Keith’s camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look! A convenient way to my tumblr if you wanna come say hi! --> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pink-painted-flowers


	2. Level Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Hi if you're a wonderful person who read chapter one the first time I posted it, I made some edits. Mostly small things, but if nothing else, read the first two sentences. Those are game changers.

Level 2:

This level of skinship Marking is often thought to be the most important.

 This refers to a mark made by the first physical touch of a person’s soulmate.

The color of the mark is dependent on the two joined souls;

the mark is permanent.

 

Lance groaned as he woke up, sprawled out over his floor, squinting at the light coming in streams from the window. He blinked a few times to adjust.

Lance rolled over onto his knees to get up. Something clicked against the floor, and Lance looked over to see a thin paintbrush that definitely wasn’t his rolling away from his hand. On the ground next to him was a smear of marbled purple, blue, and black paint.

“Oh.” Lance reached for his face, the previous night coming in bits and pieces, and felt the flaking paint on his cheeks, and neck. He would have to clean that off first.

“Wait. Shit.” Lance took a quick glance around the room just to make sure, but Keith wasn’t there. His things were still in the corner, the paints still spilled over the floor, and his camera sitting on his backpack. Keith would not have gone far without his camera; it had cost too much for Keith to just leave it behind. He had probably woken up before him, and went downstairs in search of food, or left during the night to sleep somewhere more comfortable than the floor. Lance sighed, and scrubbed at his neck.

A memory pulled at his attention. There was a soft hiccup in Lance’s chest as he remembered Keith’s hands, covered in acrylic paint as they held his cheeks. That was. . . for Keith this was big. Completely out of the ordinary. Lance sat in the middle of the floor breathing for a minute. Did he bring it up? Keith had been high when it happened. Hadn’t been fully there. They would have to talk about this, make sure Keith wasn’t completely freaked out about it, and going to avoid Lance forever, because he didn’t believe it had ever been a ‘sensitivity issue’ that kept him at a distance. It had to be something else.

He got to his feet, still groggy, and headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up first.

Lance unlocked the doors upstairs on his way to the bathroom, feeling a little bad that he hadn’t gotten them open for his friends last night. He peeled his stained t-shirt off once he was  in the bathroom, then took a long look at Keith’s work. He did look like a galaxy. The purple and blue and black swirled in awkward sloppy streaks across face, stretching into his hair line, below his eyes, the edges smudged and breaking off during his sleep. The coloring on his neck was more mixed, making less of a clear picture. Even in the dark though, Keith had an eye for color.

Then there were the constellations. It was just distinguished enough to see that Keith had dotted stars across the paint akin to Lance’s freckles. Some were tiny and dense, others were huge and created a belt across his nose and jaw. There were a few comets, and he could make out one solid connected constellation that he recognized as the Scorpio star sign. The white paint blended in with the others, the background not having had a chance to dry first, but it added to the whole surrealist effect.

Keith had called him the boy of stars. Lance felt his face go hot at the memory, the way his voice had sounded when he had said it, the way he looked at him in such complete wonder.

A part of him didn’t want to wash it off.

Lance got a wash cloth wet, and started scrubbing at his neck. His skin turned red, and raw from the force he had to use to get himself clean.

“Thanks, Keith,” he muttered to himself. Lance went to work on his cheeks, having to work just as hard to take it off. Lance sucked in a sharp breath when he took the washcloth away. Underneath the paint was a soft, lilac mark following the shape of where Keith’s hands had been. It was almost the same shade as the purple paint. It had to just be a stain from leaving it on so long. There was no way that. . . it couldn’t be. Lance worked at the other side of his face, and there was a matching mark, the same color, following the shape of the galaxy he had just washed clean. Lance scrubbed harder at the marks, added soap just to be sure that it wasn’t going anywhere. He stared at himself as the redness faded. The purple mark was still there.

Lance’s breath hitched as he felt a small burn spread across the outline. This was a soulmate mark.  

The light purple was only just visible, and spanned the majority of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose, and reaching out to his ears, over his jaw. Keith’s fingers had left a shadow puppet butterfly. It was as if Lance could still feel Keith’s hands cupping his cheeks, firm, and slick with paint. He pressed his fingers against the outline of the mark, coming away with a few left over speckles of paint.

He pressed his hands hard against the counter, and looked down at the sink. Lance had touched him last night too, so he had to have his own mark. Maybe that was why Keith had left. That wasn’t be a good sign. Lance had to find him, and they had to talk this through.

Lance half scrubbed at the remaining paint on his forehead, the rushed back to his room to pull on the first sweatshirt he could find. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet as he ran down the stairs, and picked his way around a handful of passed out party guests from last night. The house was going to need a major clean up later, but that wasn’t what he was worried about right now.

Out on the deck, he found Matt and Pidge huddled together at the table. Pidge was clutching a cup of coffee, dwarfed in Matt’s jacket in the slight brisk of the air. Matt leaned heavily on his sister, a soft pink mark smudged across his cheek where he and Pidge made contact, he looked absolutely wrecked.

“Matt! Pidge! Have you-“

“Aah! Okay, no, no, no.” Matt groaned, flinging a hand out, and turning more into Pidge’s shoulder. She didn’t react to either boy, just continued to run her thumbs over her cup. “Nope. I am still way too hung over for this. Try again later.”

“This is important. Have you guys seen Keith yet this morning?” Matt groaned in response, gripping his forehead. Lance turned to Pidge, trying to hold back the desperate edge in his voice.

“Pidge?” She closed her eyes tight.

“Mmmmmm.”

“Pidge, please!”

“Ah, jeez okay. Yeah. I saw him walk by a while ago, but I don’t know where he went. I’m still too tired.”

Lance swallowed. “Did he. . . did he look kinda freaked out?” Pidge snapped her eyes open and looked up at Lance.

“What did you do to that boy, Mc-Oh my god. . .” Lance winced and inched back a little. He pressed at the mark on his face. This was new for him. This was a big deal, and there was absolutely no hiding it.

“No way,” Pidge breathed. “Matt! Matt look!” She threw her brother off of her shoulder to reach up and grab Lance’s face. Matt fell off the chair.

“Pidge, what the fuck?” He made no move to get back up, just curled in on himself where he was.

Pidge’s fingers moved curiously over the soft purple mark, fascinated by the design and color as if she had never seen a Skinship mark before. She had done the same thing with Hunk’s.

“Did you feel it form? Do you feel anything in it now? I’ve heard of couples who can feel each other through their marks.” Lance wrapped his fingers around her wrists and pulled her away. Her finger tips came away tinged blue.

“No, I didn’t feel it being formed. And no, I don’t feel anything now,” he said, trying to be as patient with her as possible. “I . . . think I felt something when I first saw it this morning,” Lance’s fingers subconsciously ran in circles across the mark. “Almost as if he was still. . .” Pidge blinked at him, and pulled her hands back to herself.

“Keith did that didn’t he?” Lance’s stomach flipped at the mention of his name. He nodded. She let out a low breath. “He like. . . actually showed physical affection. That’s. . . new. . . So what does this mean? Is our little Keith finally coming out of his shell? Gonna actually function like a normal fucking human be-“

“Piiiiiidge. Stop. Talking.” Matt was backing to groaning, and whining about his very existence.

“Shut up you did this to yourself!” Pidge called, louder than necessary. Lance side stepped Matt who was more of a pile of tangled hair and stained clothing than a human at the moment.

“Look. I’m gonna find Keith. Just. . . watch the house while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Go find your other love bird.” She grinned at him, but Lance could only offer up an uneasy quirk of his mouth in return.

Lance jogged down the stairs, anxious, and desperate to find Keith. What was he going to say though? What was one supposed to say now? There was nothing simple about this, as beautiful and easy everyone made the whole soulmate thing to be, he now completely understood Hunk’s panic. Because this? This was awkward as hell, but something in the universe had determined that they were meant to be together. Lance shoved his hands into his pockets to make their shaking less obvious.

So, Keith? His soulmate was Keith. Stubborn, spitfire, moody Keith. Had he ever. . . noticed it? Ever felt that kind of connection to him? He hadn’t really thought of Keith that way. Of course, over the past year he had grown to admire Keith; he loved how passionate he was, how giving he could be, but he hadn’t. . .

Lance thought back to the night before, the way Keith had called him the boy of stars, the warm feeling that settled between his ribs when he spoke. About the way he watched Keith breathe, wondering what his skin felt like. He remembered the soft, almost pleading look Keith had had in his eyes when he insisted he was looking at the stars. And Keith had started to let Lance in on the most vulnerable pieces of himself.

_I hate being. . . scared all the time._

Did Keith feel it? Had he been trying to drop a hint to him last night? Opening up to Lance, the whole ‘boy of stars’ thing. And Lance had been too high to get it. As much as he pretended to for Hunk’s sake, Lance didn’t really understand how this was supposed to work. There were so many questions up in the air that he couldn’t sort out on his own.

At the bottom of the stairs there were a few people passed out around the lawn, bottles littered everywhere, and Lance cringed at the reminder that he’d have to clean that up later. His grimace fell though when he looked under the deck to see Hunk and Shay curled up next to each other in the hammock, arms around shoulders, and ankles tangled where they skimmed the concrete below them. The dark skin on Shay’s cheek shimmered pink where it was pressed to Hunk’s shoulder, and curly hair mussed from where his hand was still loosely resting on the back of her head. They were both out, but looked so comfortable with each other even still.

Something in Lance’s chest shifted. He was so happy for his friend, remembering everything it had taken to get him to just talk to her. It was also reassuring in a way. That this kind of thing really did work out, if it was meant to be, that was the truth of it, and t would be okay.  

So maybe he and Keith would figure it out too. He just needed to work out how to approach this. Well, first of all, he should probably just make sure that Keith was okay. He’d bailed as soon as he woke up by the looks of it. What had him so freaked out?

Lance turned toward the beach in the vague direction Pidge had given him, away from the house, and started jogging toward the sand, eyes scanning the area around him for any signs of Keith.

At ten in the morning, families were just starting to unpack along the beach. Parents sprayed down little kids in bright swim suits, a few high school boys were laying down the rules for a volleyball game, and a few girls were running right at the waves with boogie boards in hand. It was picturesque. Another perfect day in the sand, and Lance was just in utter shock of it all. That the rest of the world couldn’t stop for just a minute for him to get his head around everything. That even in the face of an Earth shattering revelation, the world didn’t stop moving. He definitely owed Hunk an apology for being so pushy. Finding your soulmate was absolutely nerve wrecking.

When he reached the beach, Lance paused for a minute, glancing down both stretches of sand. It would be a complete shot in the dark as to which way Keith might have gone. He made a guess when he eyed something just a little way down to his right, and he just hoped Keith was being classically emo. He weaved through the scattered beach-goers, a few of which took a moment to do a double-take at the purple across his cheeks, out on full display. He kept a look out for Keith’s shaggy hair, just in case. No trace of him. Lance could only hope he found him quickly, otherwise this would take hours.

His path edged into the damp sand where the ocean lapped at the beach as he approached the short pier he hoped Keith was holding up underneath. He could be alone out here, virtually unseen unless someone was specifically looking where the old wood turned into sand. Lance leaned on one of the support beams, as he checked the area. He let out a sharp breath. Keith was holed up in the back corner, practically hunched over himself from the low ceiling. He was pushing at the wet sand next to his knee, not having seen Lance just yet.

“Keith.” His eyes flicked up at the sound of Lance’s voice. He took a deep breath, and straightened out his shoulders.  He opened his mouth to say something, but it faltered as Keith’s eyes flicked across his face. Lance felt his cheeks heating up, and pressed his fingers to the soft markings across his skin.

“Oh. . .” Keith muttered. Lance let his hand drop to his side, and took a few steps toward Keith.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Keith couldn’t stop staring.

“Really?” Lance asked as his head brushed the deck above them. He stooped down, and sat next to Keith. “Because ducking out without telling anybody doesn’t exactly scream ‘okay’ to me.” Keith folded his arms, and looked back down at the sand.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a quiet moment. “For leaving like that. I shouldn’t have left without saying something. I just panicked, I guess.”

Lance took in a deep breath, and debated whether or not he wanted to ask.

“What made you panic enough that you wanted to leave?” Keith’s shoulders went stiff. He didn’t answer right away, but Lance let the silence hang, trusting Keith to talk when he was ready. He looked over to Lance, his body still tense, and expression guarded.

“I don’t really know actually.” Lance cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t know?” Keith huffed.

“No. I don’t know _why_ I was so freaked out. I know _what_ it was about, but that’s it.” Lance took in a deep breath. ‘ _Was it about me?’_ No. Don’t ask that. Don’t be presumptuous.

“Was it. . . then what-“

“It was because of you.”

“Me?” His voice little more than a shallow breath. Keith shut his eyes, and tilted his head back, mussed hair skimming the wood above them. He simply breathed for a moment, trying to piece his thoughts together, but Lance couldn’t hear him over his own pulse. Every frantic beat of his heart begging Keith to just say something. He opened his eyes, unfocused gaze never straying from the tiny space of air above him as he spoke.

“When I woke up this morning, the first thing I could focus on was you,” Keith’s voice was remarkably steady. The same couldn’t quite be said for Lance’s composure as he listened. “And I saw the paint across your face, and I remembered everything I said and did last night. Even just that was so past my usual boundaries-“

“Keith, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to-“

“No. It’s okay. That’s not what freaked me out.” Keith looked back over to him, and held up a hand for him to stop. “It was past what I’m normally comfortable with, yeah, but . . . I didn’t . . . I felt like that was okay. Because it. . .I don’t know.” Keith ran a hand over his cheeks, and lips, to try and hide the rising blush on his face. Lance felt his chest squeeze around his lungs.

“And then I saw this.” Keith rolled up his right sleeve. Wrapped around his wrist was a mark the same lilac color as the one on Lance’s face. Long lines over the top of his wrist showed were Lance’s fingers had been, and on the underside, was the patchy marking of his palm. Lance let out a long breath, feeling something loosen in his stomach, as if he hadn’t believed it until now. Hadn’t thought Keith’s skin would show the same story as his own. But there it was, and Lance wanted nothing more than to reach out and trace his fingers over it.

“I saw this,” Keith continued, breaking through Lance’s own thoughts. “And . . . some part of me that I haven’t listened to in a long time, told me to run. That there was something wrong with this.”

“Gee, Keith. You know exactly what a guy likes to hear.” Keith glared at him.

“I’m trying to be honest with you, and you’re-“ Lance held up his hands. Keith was moving to stand, and Lance couldn’t let him leave just yet.

“No. No. Please, stay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Keith crossed his arms, and looked away from Lance. “This is just . . . everything about this is a lot to process and I’m obviously not doing that so well.”

“If this isn’t what you wanted, then why did you come find me?” Keith still wouldn’t look at Lance.

“Woah. Hey, that’s not what I meant.” Lance leaned over to try and catch Keith’s eye. “Keith, hey. Come on, please look at me.” He refused. Lance stood up, and physically moved himself to the other side of Keith’s body, so he was forced to look at him. Keith’s frown deepened, but he made no move to turn away again.

“That isn’t what I meant, Keith. Was I expecting this? No. Not at all. Because we’ve just . . .” Lance shut his mouth for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t think our relationship up to this point has never suggested what these marks are telling us. So I’ve spent my morning going back over every conversation we’ve ever had, trying to understand how I could have missed that. Because there had to be something, right? This isn’t just randomized.” Keith’s expression softened, and Lance kept his focus on his dark eyes. “So I’m shocked, sure. But I’m not disappointed. Not by a long shot.”

Keith seemed to shudder, before turning his face into his arm. “Oh,” he muttered. Lance blinked, incredulous.

“Oh?” He could hear his voice going shrill. “That’s all you have to say is ‘oh?’” Keith’s head shot up.

“What do you want me to say?” Lance swallowed to stall giving an answer.

Both of them went quiet, completely unsure of what to say to each other now. Lance wanted to reach for him, to wrap his fingers around Keith’s and just sit with him in solidarity while they sorted through their own feelings. But he knew Keith had already gone way past his comfort zone last night, and Lance didn’t want to push him. There wasn’t going to be a way around this beyond talking then, was there?

“I’m gonna be honest with you. You deserve that . . .” Lance muttered, trying to build himself to what he needed to say. “I don’t know how I feel about all this just yet. I haven’t had a chance to figure it all out.” Lance paused waiting to see if Keith would interject. He didn’t; just continued to gaze off toward the water softly lapping against the sand. Lance continued.

“When I woke up this morning, and washed the paint off, the first thing, the very first thing I thought about was that you had to have a mark too. From when I grabbed your wrist. And that you were gone, so I figured that that was why you’d left. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Because regardless of everything else, you’re one of my best friends. Albeit one of my more annoying ones.” That finally got a reaction out of Keith, dark eyes narrowing in his direction, but Lance still took the moment catch his gaze, refusing to look away.

“So no,” he continued. “I haven’t had time to really understand how I feel, because I immediately went out to find you. But I do know how much I care about you, and that there’s . . .” Lance’s breath caught in his throat. Keith was looking at him with such painful honesty now. Eyes pleading, and for what Lance couldn’t figure out yet. But in that moment, everything was so raw, stripped of any protective walls, and Lance may have answered his own question in talking. “There’s little in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”

Keith rushed to his feet, and tried to hide a small choked noise by letting out a deep breath. He slid a little toward the water to just avoid hitting his head on the pier above them.

“Keith . . .” He turned back to Lance, but refused to look him in the eyes, focus flitting to anything and everything else around them. Lance eased himself to his feet. “Keith what’s wrong? Did I- was that-“

“We need to be heading back. Shiro’s probably all freaked out that I left without saying anything.” Keith shoved his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, and turned away. Lance stood in shock as he simply watched Keith walk away, wondering what in the hell he should have said to get Keith to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look! A convenient way to my tumblr if you wanna come say hi! --> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pink-painted-flowers


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